


A Spicy Afternoon

by Palefire73



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Mild Language, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 21:53:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2125917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palefire73/pseuds/Palefire73
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A boring afternoon alone at work turns into an interesting encounter with The God of Mischief</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Spicy Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> *It's not Agent of Asgard, but I couldn't just put "Loki" in the fandom box! I own none of the Nordic stuff. Marvel owns the film and is credited as such. I own the job in the story, but I don't own Loki or Asgard. In fact no one does. Just saying.*
> 
> Even though the Midgardian has seen the whole of the Thor film, the Loki who presents himself before her has not yet been through his traumas, so he is the self assured mischief maker we see just before he tricks Thor into going to Jotuunheim. When he reads her mind, luckily and for the sake of this story, he doesn't see anything there to alert him to the fact he is not of Asgard. She feels the cold because she knows about it........... This is my first attempt at writing. I hope you enjoy it :)

Friday Afternoons Suck.  
  
The majority of the company workforce have gone home; the machine operators who work 8 - 5 every day except Friday. It's a 1pm finish on a Friday for the factory floor. Not for you, though. Oh no. You wanted more: responsibility, a mental challenge, a bit of authority. And just  **what**  did the promotion get you? A supervisor bonus of a credit more an hour and a whole world of headaches, stress and whining from all directions, that's what. But...... it's what drives you. The satisfaction of another happy customer. Organising your department into streamlined manufacturing perfection. Spotting the famous names associated with your products. And knowing it's your team's hard work and refusal to fail in the face of adversity and crap conditions that means the job gets done.  
  
The high-end cosmetic brush manufacturing company you work for isn't that well known itself, but it's customers' brands are internationally successful and famous. Knowing the make up being applied on film sets and in theatre dressing-rooms around the world is through the use of brushes made by your small crew of talented craftspeople is what keeps you going. Those craftspeople - your friends, too - went home two hours ago.  
  
Friday Afternoons  **Suck**.  
  
They consist of all the paperwork and the prep for the following week. There are only four other people in the entire complex, also questioning their dedication to the company and each and every one of you would rather be at home getting ready to appreciate the weekend. Hah! The weekend? Just exactly what had you got in store for this one? Another few hours on social media websites, catching up on the pages you follow for your favourite stuff: Marvel comics and films, Sci-Fi and Fantasy Fiction books and games, EBM news? Cleaning your small flat and eating crap from a box you warmed in the microwave? Boy-oh-boy. Life at home wasn't really that exciting anyway.........  
  
Well, work was nearly done; once you had printed off all the invoices, stuffed them in envelopes and dropped them in the mailbag, it was time to leave the modern air-conditioned office block and go into the adjoining Victorian Mill. Up two flights of worn stone stairs and you were in the brush-making department. Prep for Monday morning. Oh Joy of joys. Making sure your crew of three girls had enough work for the week. Sighing, you go to the storage room and start to pick materials out for manufacture. It's an easy but mundane task and it means Monday morning will be a bit easier to face because the work will be out and ready to go into production. This time, it's a big job for an internationally renowned make up artist who has her own successful range. Only a few weeks ago, you were listening to her on the phone enviously as she mentioned a few famous people she and her peers were making up on set in London. At least she is an excellent customer and her brushes are a pleasure to make.  
  
The deserted floor of the old run-down mill is silent and very peaceful to work in; everyone else is downstairs in the office block. Matching materials to job requirements, you quickly and efficiently assign the work to each of your crew's work stations according to their skills. As you do so, your mind wanders and you start to daydream about your current crush, Loki, from the Thor film you saw a few months ago. Stills and gifs you've seen on the internet flash through your mind and you suppress an excited shiver as he appears in your mind's eye. This crush is a big one. You've fixated on film, book and game characters before, but never this intensely. There's just something about him and that scene, the one where his world is crushed and his heart is broken as he discovers his true parentage? Well, you were bawling at the screen like a big kid, the tears running down your cheeks as if you'd just seen a dog get run over! The guy who played him was pretty damn good - Tom something-or-other (a British actor of course; all the best ones are!), he was perfectly cast and quite hot, too. You have watched the film over and again, analysing the situation. You have discussed Loki on websites, you quote him, you have bought things with him on them and he's even the picture on your social media accounts! Friends and colleagues have laughed and made fun of your interest (obsession?). Let's face it, though; you'd recently broken up from a very long term relationship having been cheated on, you're a true Piscean in the sense of being dreamy and romantic, and you are a lifelong fan of horror, fantasy and Sci-Fi. It was meant to be: Thor came along just as you needed a distraction, only it wasn't the blonde hero who caught your attention. No, the character you identified with the most, and who subsequently stole your heart, was Loki.  
  
Well, that settled it. As soon as it was time to clock out of this hell hole, you were going straight to the shop on the corner of your street for a microwave meal for one and a bottle of wine. Your companions for tonight would be a glass or two of red, a lasagne, your Loki cushion and another viewing of Thor. You could pretend you lived in one of the nine realms in the branches of Yggdrasil instead of a northern town in England. You return to your favourite daydream; if only Loki could magic you away through the Bifrost away from this crappy life! "Heimdallr, when you're ready, mate!" you say, lifting hopeful eyes to the ceiling. It's something you say pretty much every day and you smile wryly as you lower your eyes back down to the task in front of you. Like it was ever going to happen. Picking up the box of materials, you venture into the room where you keep all the master samples of the brushes you make and select a drawer with a particular customer name on. As you search inside for the correct brush, something moves in the periphery of your vision and you turn in surprise. It was nothing - probably a reflection in one of the huge grilled windows that march along the length of the production room. Shaking your head, you add an instruction leaflet to the box detailing how to make the brush and take it to the beginning of the production line, humming the Marvel theme tune and fantasizing about Loki stepping out of your tv to share your wine tonight. A noise back in the sample room draws your attention; it sounds like someone messing with the drawers. Has someone come up from the office? Theft was rare, but not unknown in the company. Angrily, you march back over to the smaller, darker room, determined to catch whoever it is in the act. But, although it is quite dim inside, you can see there is no one there.  
  
Friday Afternoons  ** _Fucking Suck!_**  
  
Up here on your own, after hours, preparing work for a Monday morning that will arrive so quickly it will make it seem as if Saturday and Sunday were kidnapped by The TARDIS, and you are so bored and tired that you are hearing people that are not there. Oh well, two more jobs to prepare and then you're out of here and heading home to your wine, your sofa and Loki. With a smile on your lips and secure in the knowledge that no one can hear you, you say to the empty department "Loki! Will you PLEASE come and help me sort out these materials so I can get home to you? I need you to spice up my afternoon!". Laughing quietly to yourself at your own daft question you start to reel off some quotes as you work: "Is it madness (working late every Friday afternoon)? Is it?" you quiver your lips and lower your voice to a growl in imitation of your favourite God "IS IT?" You wander into the dimly lit sample room, melodramatically drape yourself over some of the drawers and state "I'm just another relic........."  
  
"I believe this is the painting tool you wish your subordinate to make come Monday morning"  
  
"FUCKINGHELLWHAT?!" you scream out, dropping the box of materials you were carrying and jumping out of your skin in fright. Your body wants to run a mile; your brain wants to know just who the fuck said that line making you nearly pee yourself. Your hair has raised on your scalp and your legs are tingling, but you are rooted to the spot as a slender white hand emerges from the shadows of the back corner of the sample room, one of the artfully crafted make up brushes clasped in long, beautiful fingers. Your mind is still processing the surprise and embarrassment of someone being there and witnessing your Loki impersonation, so you resort to shouting: "For God's sake, Simon, I thought you had gone home! Stop fucking around - you scared the shit out of me and it's not funny!" You snatch at the brush, slightly weirded out that it's the one you had been going to get, but to your horror, another equally white and slender, yet strong hand grabs yours and drags you towards the shadows.  
  
"I do not know of this 'Simon' you mention" a low, silky voice declares as you are drawn towards where it comes from, "However, only a short time ago, you requested my presence. An invitation to assist you in your task and to 'spice up' your afternoon, was it not?" The owner of the voice slowly emerges from the shadows. Your shocked gaze settles on an ornamented gold and black breast plate, then travels upwards, up a high black leather collar trimmed in gold blocks to a white pinched face framed in raven black hair. As it dawns on you just who has your hands in a vice-like grip, your eyes meet the unmistakable piercing emerald green orbs staring down at you - those of the Trickster God, Loki.  
  
Your legs betray you and start to buckle under you, your stomach does belly flops and your poor, overworked and confused brain does the only thing it can do in defence, it starts to make you faint. As your eyes roll up in your head and things start to go grey, Loki swiftly takes you in his arms. Brush-making materials and sample boxes are scattered everywhere as you both stumble trying to stay upright. Your befuddled mind just will not compute and you breathlessly mumble "Loki?" and stare into those beautiful hypnotic pools of green. Despite his inestimable strength, Loki is forced to grip you tighter to stop you falling and your bodies press close together as he does so. Now, you really are helpless! As realisation creeps in and you somehow manage to comprehend that this is real and not some shitty Friday afternoon fantasy cooked up by your lonely and frustrated head, you lose all ability to function properly. You go hot, you go cold; the hairs on your arms stand to attention as goose-pimples appear. All the thoughts you have ever harboured for the being currently holding you in his grasp race through your mind. And most of them are downright dirty! Oh, the psychoanalysis of his desperate situation and eventual fall into the abyss, along with your sympathies is buried down in there somewhere, but the desire to meet this God, rip off his beautiful Jotuunheimr battle gear and show him a good time just happens to bubble to the surface and float there like a bright red life buoy in a murky grey sea.  
  
Loki, meanwhile, has been studying you intensely and, just as those last risqué thoughts flit across your mind, you see his face turn from one of a slight concern for your well being to one of outright lasciviousness. You push the pictures down and try to replace them with images of more mundane matters, but the look on his face tells you he has read your mind and knows exactly what you have been envisaging. He has, in the space of mere moments, explored every niche of your exposed mind and extracted the very basest of desires you have ever felt towards him. With his green eyes now locked onto yours in an hypnotic embrace, his hands loosen your wrists and slip behind you. He places one on the small of your back and one at the back of your neck. Without giving you a chance to protest, he pulls you even tighter towards him and lowers his mouth to yours. Caught up in the swiftness of his movement, you react in a purely physical way, automatically moulding yourself to his body and lifting your mouth to his.  
  
An overwhelming rush of excitement courses through you as the God of Mischief you thought only existed in myths and legends kisses you. His lips are cold, yet soft and enticing, tasting of nothing you have experienced before. As your lips part and he starts to explore you with his cold tongue, a contradictory heat you have not felt for a long time starts in your lower abdomen. The hand behind your head twists its fingers almost painfully into your hair and presses hard, crushing your mouth roughly to his. The kisses become more urgent as you respond in kind and you breathe deeply of each other, savouring the taste of each other in your sudden need to connect. Reaching behind you, Loki sweeps all the work associated paraphernalia off a desk and lifts you on to it, still kissing you feverishly. He draws closer and pushes your legs apart, making your skirt ride up, so he can stand between them. You can no longer help yourself. Even if you didn't want this to happen, your body was reacting in a perfectly natural way to Loki's amourous advances and you now feel a warmth building in your most private place.  
  
A very tiny part of you opposes what is happening - "Er hello?" it yells at you, "Just what part of you snogs fictitious Gods on the sample room desk? Is this really the kind of behaviour you indulge in? Am I getting through here?!" Although your sensible side wants to listen to the scolding voice, your romantic, fantasy loving escapist side doesn't. With a mighty mental effort, you kick that whining voice right out of the door and you turn your full attention on the sexually aroused Nordic God, who is currently pushing you down onto the desk with only one thing clearly on his mind; to spice up your afternoon. And from what you can feel as he presses his body into yours, he has plenty of spice to share with you.......  
  
"Do you want this?" A velvet growl in your ear brings you out of your tormented reverie.  
" Yes I do. I want this more than anything" You gasp, barely remembering how to talk.  
"To be taken by a God of Asgard is like nothing you may have experienced with a Midgardian mortal" He draws back and looks you in the eyes. "I ask again - do you want this?"  
In answer to his question, you take his hand, guide it to your most sensuous place and make his fingers feel the effect his attentions have had on you. "Does this leave you in any doubt?" you ask, boldly looking right back at him and curving your lips into a mischievous smile. Staring into his sea-green eyes, you say softly "I want this, Loki".  
A smile spreading across his beautifully sharp featured face, Loki lifts his fingers to his mouth and tastes your arousal. His eyes close and he grunts with pleasure. With a casual wave of his hand, cumbersome clothing is discarded and you see his tall perfect form standing before you as he leans in and presses you onto the hard surface of the table. Reaching down, he grasps your thighs and pushes them upwards. Your neck arches back and you cry out as he enters you. It has been a while since you slept with that bastard who left you broken hearted and that, combined with Loki's God-like physical stature, fills you like never before. A sweet pain spreads within you and your mouth voices his name soundlessly. Slowly, intimately, Loki moves within you, watching you as your breath hitches in your throat, watching you as his actions jar your body on the table, as your head moves from side to side involuntarily. Reaching down once more with his hand, his eyes never leaving your face, he finds your engorged centre of pleasure and gently brushes it, sending an electric jolt through your body, causing you to buck up against him.  
  
"Ahhh! Loki!" you almost scream at him, hardly able to bear all the sensations you are being bombarded with. Leaning down close and nipping at your neck with his teeth, he breathes heavily "What is it, my dear Midgardian?"  
  
You are unable to answer, as he now increases his tempo, somehow holding you in a way that, with each stroke, he finds that sensitive place deep within you and stimulates it with his hardness. Digging your elbows hard down onto the wooden surface beneath you, you arch your back and feel yourself approaching your climax. "Loki", you whisper "Loki, I can't hold on much longer" breathing heavily, you look searchingly into his eyes. Pressing his fullness into you, he leans in close and kisses you once again; a long and lingering kiss, allowing you to calm down somewhat. When you open your eyes, you are met with those dark, yet glittering orbs of purest green and, as it feels he is staring into your very soul, he draws back, then starts to thrust into you with long, deep strokes. Holding you by the throat, and with perspiration beading on his forehead, he locks you into his gaze. As his eyes enslave you and his movements become faster, you feel a familiar sensation building within you. You don't care that the God is using his magic on you in addition to his physical attentions, you are totally under his control and revelling in every second of it. The heat in your belly spreads and you feel yourself tightening around him, you start to pant in short sharp breaths and then - you feel yourself come undone as the waves of pleasure wash through you. You stare through tears of ecstasy at Loki moving above you and watch his face contort as he reaches his own release within you, his black hair plastered to his face with sweat from his exertions.  
  
Slowly, eventually, he releases your eyes from his gaze and he releases your neck from his slender white fingers. He lowers himself down on to you and nestles his face into your shoulder, his luxurious black hair brushing your face.  
  
"is that enough spice for your afternoon?" he asks in a mischievous voice "Or do you require another helping?".  
  
Palefire73  
10/08/2014


End file.
